


A Jung’s Crown

by Ploaie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: JaeYong - Freeform, M/M, johnten, yuwin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ploaie/pseuds/Ploaie
Summary: “You weigh half a cup of rice,” was all it took for Taeyong to wish misfortune on the kingdom's treasured royal, Jung Jaehyun.





	1. "Is It Contagious?"

“We are going to get caught,” Sicheng hissed into the shorter man’s ear, his slender fingers curling further into the silken skirt of the other’s hanbok.

 

“Not dressed like women, we won’t.” Taeyong reassured, gingerly poking the anxious royal’s hand with the blunt tip of an emerald hairpin, earning himself a quick slap on the arm. “Ah- look what you’ve done!” The noble scrunched up his face, umber spheres flitting to Sicheng for a brief glare before returning to the fallen hairpin, crouching to pick the jewelry up.

 

They weren’t supposed to be roaming about, especially once the golden glints of dusk fleeted away to give way to the moon’s luminescence. Nights in the streets of the common were filled with bandits and dangerous people taking part in criminal acts. But tonight in particular was different. The royal peace ceremony amongst nations was to be held the following morning, making the current night prime for various shop owners and merchants to vend their goods.

 

Though the streets were buzzing with kind citizens and cheery children, it was no place for two elite younglings. Notably Sicheng, as it wasn’t every day Qing's Grand Prince escaped the confines of his lavish, gold-threaded bedding to frolic amid commoners in feminine clothing. The prince looked better in a hanbok than a _very_ good portion of Joseon’s females, Taeyong had to acknowledge. “We’ve spent a hefty amount of time hoarding the merchant stalls for Eastern silk,” the elder noted whilst holding up a pearl head piece to the moon, “the least you can do is indulge my love for jewelry.”

 

The noble smiled politely to the merchant, handing the lady a handful of hairpins and a few coins. “Addiction, you mean.” Sicheng remarked playfully. The lady gave Taeyong a cloth bag encasing the hairpins to which he held and resisted throwing at Sicheng. Sicheng was not worth wasting the jewels on.

 

The faint aroma of savory meat and tangy spices thickened, weaving through the air with the gentle Spring breeze. Taeyong looked up to catch the prince licking his lips, blinking once. “Not a good idea.” He sniffled and locked elbows with the man, assuaging them away from the food stalls. Last thing Taeyong needed was Qing's Grand Prince potentially food poisoned right before a multi-national peace ceremony. “You’re still sick?” the younger asked, worry tinging his tone as he ripped his sight away from the stalls and to his friend. “Just a little. Almost gone.” The male mumbled in response, pulling out a cotton handkerchief from his sleeve in preparation for a sneeze… The sneeze didn’t come. A hindrance.

 

Deciding they’d stayed the considerable ‘safe’ amount of time away from palace walls, the two started on their way back before a heap of Qing warriors fled out in search of them. “My stomach’s taunting me,” the taller whined, nodding to a pair of men walking along the same road. One was pulling a delectable piece of smoked meat off the thin, wooden stick that held more of the glazed tender. “Is this what it feels like to be a commoner?” the younger questioned sorrowfully, clutching the layers of embroidered Eastern silk to his chest. Taeyong could only roll his eyes, “I’m quite sure that commoner is feeling the opposite of what you do right now.” The man was eating deliciously, only putting Sicheng in further agony the closer he got.

 

The path was slender and walking on grass in such attire was the last thing the two wanted. When walking on such a path it was customary for men to give way to the women. Thorns could easily rip the skirts of the hanbok or tear into the sides of their shoes. Their shoes were beautiful, yes, but that was the thing about beautiful clothing. They were beautiful, not strong.

 

Taeyong glanced at the Qing beauty,  _Won’t they move?_

 

Sicheng shrugged and discretely motioned to his flat chest, _Maybe it’s because we don’t have any?_

 

That sent the elder into a fit of coughs, not having expected such a reply. Sicheng had a point, but Taeyong still thought it was unusual. The men approaching were wearing plain clothes, commoners. They didn’t look bothered at all. In fact, the taller of the two merely caught Taeyong’s gaze, the moonlight barely illuminating his face but just enough to tell Taeyong he had no plans of moving.

 

Now only a few feet away, Sicheng decided to pull an arrow, “Is your sickness still contagious?” Not only did the two men before them pause, but so did Taeyong. The shorter was confused, looking up at his friend and then the two men that seemed to be on the verge of backing away. “What do you m-“ A sneeze broke through, causing the elite to bow his head straight into a stranger’s chest with a faint whine.

 

If the stranger wasn’t frozen before, he certainly was now as his obsidian gaze melted into Taeyong’s once the shorter looked up, a plea of guilt written all over his face. The noble winced inwardly as he quickly moved to wipe away at the man’s chest with his handkerchief. He shouldn’t even have to with their differing ranks, but he still felt compelled to under the man’s blank stare. It was as if a thin string of lightening had coursed through the length of his spine. “I’m so sor-“

 

“Is it contagious?” The stranger cut Taeyong off, his tone cold and calm.

 

Taeyong could see the man moving his lips, but couldn’t hear anything at all. It was like his brain had shut itself off in fear. He didn’t know how to act. It was obvious the male didn’t care for an apology for he deemed them meaningless. At least, Taeyong's apology was.

 

“No, it’s not.” Sicheng stepped in with a high pitched voice and nervous laugh upon noticing Taeyong’s lack of voice, trying to ease the tense air as tugged on the skirt of his friend’s hanbok, trying to get the male to move away. The stranger didn’t even spare him a glance, keeping his eyes strictly on the other. Taeyong could only stare back, mind having gone blank as his tongue numbed up.

 

“Is it contagious?” the stranger asked again, his voice baritone and still levelled. Taeyong could feel the vibrations of each word traveling through the stranger’s chest, having forgotten that his fingers were still resting on the other’s chest. It was obvious he’d only take an answer from him. No, _demanded._

 

“No, it’s n-not.” He finally breathed out after tearing his eyes away, shuffling close against the prince’s side. The stranger hadn’t yelled at him or anything, but he still felt reprimanded like a child. “Simply a common cold, sir. You needn’t worry as it’s almost passed.”

 

Deeming the answer suffice, the stranger nodded once and brushed passed the shorter without another word. His friend, however, smiled sheepishly at the two. “My greatest apologies, Miss. He’s not a man of words, really.”

 

“You don’t say,” Sicheng noted, squinting at the man as if to get a better look. “Then you should probably get going before your friend becomes a man of words, hm?” The stranger grinned at the prince’s words before beginning to walk, “take care, ladies!”

 

Neither of the two said anything until they snuck back into Sicheng’s room, a handful of their maids sighing in relief as they began to slip off the jewels set into the elite's hairs. Sicheng was far off into his thoughts and Taeyong was mum on the whole ordeal, not knowing what to make of the experience.

 

“That guy…” The prince said after a few moments of pondering, the tip of his index finger tapping against his lower lip. “Looks an awful lot like Edo's Crown Prince, don’t you think?”

 

Taeyong groaned, eyes closed as a maid wiped off the cosmetic powder from his face. “As if I’d know, I couldn’t turn away from the other man and I could barely even make out _his_ face.”

 

Fiddling with the sleeve of his sleepwear, Sicheng softly cleared his throat before taking the elder’s hand into his. “Taeyong, I don’t wish for you to faint after hearing this or die if my guesses are true but… I think that last one is Edo’s Crown Prince.”

 

Taeyong blinked twice, tilting his head. “That’s not bad. We didn’t do anything to him.” 

 

“He and Joseon’s Crown Prince are close friends.”

 

“Oh? That’s a good thing.”

 

“You sneezed on Jung Jaehyun.”

 

“Joseon's Crown Prince?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh... Catch me before I f-"


	2. "Shut. Up."

Laughter and cheer thickened the hearty atmosphere of the ceremony. Drunken war generals setting out to the nearest gisaeng house, advisors keenly attempting to eavesdrop on their master’s words albeit falling over a few times, and the kings themselves talking far beyond the banquet with grins reaching across the seas.

 

Annoying, Jaehyun concluded. The swell of his cheek rested within the palm of his hand whilst the other wrapped around a porcelain cup, clearly bemused by the event. He snickered, watching an advisor lean a bit too far towards the group of kings. He nodded towards the bowl of rice wine beside the man, wondering how long it’d be until the advisor lost his balance. “He’s one of Edo’s men, right?”

 

Yuta couldn’t help but snort, tipping his cup with a roll of his eyes, “not after he literally drowns in alcohol he isn’t.” If it weren’t for the vast majority of now pink-faced elites making a complete mockery of themselves, the pair of princes would be a mere breath away from stabbing each other to escape. “Earlier there were a few maidens staring at you,” Yuta grinned, nudging the other, “some were pretty.”

 

Jaehyun didn’t move nor seem to be affected by the statement, continuing to glide the pad of his thumb around the rim of his cup. Uninterested. He was mum for a few moments before parting his lips with the faintest smirk tugging on its corners, “prettier than Sicheng?”

 

Yuta deadpanned, his face instantly lighting up with glowing hues of rosette with the mention of Qing’s crown. “Of course not, you bastard.” He mumbled under his breath, pretending to drink from his cup to hide the onslaught of red attacking his visage.

 

“Then don’t bother telling me about them,” Joseon’s crown mused upon seeing how flustered Yuta became, his tone teasing as he got up from the table. It always amused Jaehyun how fast the lad choked up upon hearing Sicheng’s name. He didn’t understand the emotion, but the effect was quite entertaining. Lifting a hand to cover a cough, the prince patted Yuta’s shoulder, “I’ll be in my chamber if you need me.” He wasn’t feeling too well after all.

 

The corridor was bare for a weeping moment before a pair of footsteps spoke with his own. The footsteps weren’t stable, however, much slower and… Haphazard at times. Like the person’s feet were sliding every now and then. Curious, Jaehyun decided to follow the sound, ignoring his own path. Why? He wasn't sure. In fact, it was probably a drunken soldier, he thought.

 

But no, it wasn’t.

 

Before him was someone clad in Qing’s royal silk. The attire was for a prince, but clearly, it wasn’t Sicheng. Even more so that to Jaehyun’s knowledge, no other Qing prince came but Sicheng and this person was far too short to be him. 

 

The stranger pressed his palm against the wall and just when Jaehyun stepped a few feet closer, fainted. “Amazing.” He mused and quickly glanced around to see if anyone was looking. It wasn’t too late to leave the scene and slip into his room like nothing happened. It was better than being caught and potentially being dragged into a wild-fire of a scandal. Joseon’s scandals were no joke and the prince would be damned if he was the center of one. Besides, the person was probably just drunk like the rest.

 

Clearing his throat, Jaehyun made way around the male, but not before taking a quick peek at the fallen being. The face was covered by many long strands of raven black hair. The pin that most likely kept it all together had slipped out, laying a few inches from the victim of gravity. Shaking his head, Jaehyun kneeled to pick the pin up, planning to place it within the palm of the individual. Emerald, he noted.

 

This person must have a twin.

 

Squinting, he hesitantly reached out to the other, briskly brushing a few locks of hair away from the face. And well… The man’s rubescent cheeks settled underneath a thick fan of lashes, plush lips parted to take soft uneven breaths as a thin veil of sweat covered his forehead. Hesitant on his decisions, the prince went on to carefully place the hairpin inside the palm of the other’s hand. And when svelte fingers wrapped around his own, he faltered.

 

“You aren’t even awake and you’re already trouble…” Jaehyun mumbled after a deep breath, moving to curl his arm underneath the male’s legs; picking him up. The skin felt too hot to be considered anything good and boy, did this person even weigh anything? Dried ink on parchment paper weighed more than the lad in his arms.

 

A small hum of disapproval left Taeyong’s throat as he was jostled with each step the taller took, rubbing his face into the cottony fabric of the man’s robe. “S…Cheng… M’ head… Hurts,” willowy digits curled into the collar of Jaehyun’s shirt, pulling it towards himself along with the man wearing it.

 

Of course, the prince sucked his teeth. He _would_  get stuck with someone else’s lover. Better yet, the crown prince of Qing’s lover. Now he really prayed no one would see.

 

Upon entering his quarters and ordering a maid to call the royal physician, Jaehyun gathered the weakling into his arms, pulling the curtains over the foot of his bed. If this boy were a citizen of Joseon, he’d honestly be concerned for the nation.

 

Taeyong’s forehead was nestled into the crook of the male’s neck, his fingers still unrelentingly curled into the collar as he emitted a whine, muttering some complaint about it being too hot. Jaehyun couldn’t make the rest out but the next thing he knew his robe was being shoved off his shoulder. Baffled, the taller quickly took the other’s wrist and pulled it away, staring wide eyed; startled. “Why are you taking off my clothes if it’s you who’s hot?”

 

The boy must have heard because he paused momentarily, the seconds dragging by as he blearily attempted to open his eyes to no avail. He seemed to be thinking. With a few more seconds and a weak whisper of, “you’re right,” Taeyong proceeded to unravel the ribbon of his own robe.

 

Needless to say, Jaehyun panicked and immediately jumped to keep the others robe from falling, “Hey- no. What are you-“

 

“The royal physician is here, your highness!” the maid called out.

 

He wasn’t fast enough.

 

“Your highness, if I may?” the physician requested for permission, waiting for the prince to hold his wrist out. The curtains framing the bed remained draped, preventing the others from seeing Jaehyun and his 'friend'.

 

The lad stared at the boy in his arms, Taeyong’s hair disheveled with his entire attire barely clinging to the circumference of his frail shoulders. Defeated, he held the smaller close against his chest and took his wrist, slipping it underneath the curtain. “My friend fainted earlier. I’d like to know the cause.”

 

The physician took longer than he normally would, but eventually placed a white cloth over Taeyong’s wrist and started diagnosing. “His pulse is weak, but fast. Temperature is above normal.” The scholar behind the physician wrote a few words. “Beside that, he’s anemic and perhaps did not consume enough nutrients in the day. A daily cup of tea and portion of herbs should do well for him.”

 

Anemic. Jaehyun wasn't surprised. “Thank you, that’ll be all. A cup of ginseng tea would be appreciated in the meantime.”

 

Once the two left the quarters, Jaehyun made it a mission to fix the mess of an attire the duo were wearing. It looked like they’d both taken part in some sinful rendezvous and it was making him feel unsettled. But once again…

 

The shuffling of a fiend stormed through the door before Jaehyun could even figure out where to start.

 

He failed.

 

“Jaehyun! You know Sicheng right?”

 

Because of Yuta.

 

“Yes,” Jaehyun groaned, giving up on the last bit of will he had as he fell back to lay on the bed, Taeyong tumbling with him. Unlike he who was clearly in distress, the smaller only snuggled closer, cheek molded against the taller’s shoulder with a half unconscious wink of a smile lingering on his lips. The audacity. Jaehyun couldn’t believe. “the one with, and I quote, ‘full cherry blossom lips and dazzling eyes’? Yes, I know that Sicheng.”

 

Yuta grinned dreamily, mindlessly sweeping the curtains away as he threw himself on the bed with closed eyes. For sure daydreaming about holding the Qing prince’s hand. “He’s been given the room next to our quarters. It’s a sign!”

 

When Jaehyun didn’t reply, Yuta parted his lips to mention something along the lines of being ignored. His eyes blink open as he turns to complain, “Are you l-… Holy Buddha.” His jaw dropped, eyes flickering back and forth between the male laying in his friends arm and his friend who was staring at the male with scrutinizing eyes.

 

“Is this your concubine?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“He’s pretty.”

 

“Shut. Up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos encourage me to write more, so be sure to leave one!  
> Oh, and don't forget to subscribe for updates!
> 
> +This story can also be found on AFF!  
> https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1394284/


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